


September 17th: Devoted

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 16:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: Jagen bids farewell to the land and king he loves.





	September 17th: Devoted

On the battlefield, death was often mercifully quick. Soldiers lived and breathed at the edge of a blade, fully knowing that a single misstep could end their lives, but they did so knowing that at least such an end would come swiftly.

Jagen had always thought his end would greet him on the battlefield, at the end of a lance or from the pages of an enemy’s spellbook. He watched his only sister pass away from illness at the tender age of nine, and swore he would never suffer such a fate. For his many years of life, Jagen had been fighting, a veteran of countless battlefields across the continent of Archanea, and when his old bones grew too weary for the fray, he walked alongside his liege as a tactician, ever inches from the end. But fate had spared him, though it had not his sister, nor his brothers, nor his parents. Ironic, he thought, that the son who became a soldier would be the first in his family to simply die of old age.

This death took its time. He had barely been able to leave his bed for a month now, and he had passed his duties as Captain of the Royal Guard to Cain two weeks prior. A healer had been at his bedside at all hours of the day, the soothing light of a stave’s power soothing the aches and pains that came with age. But no mortal cleric could prevent death, and Jagen knew this merely slowed its approach. So he took advantage of the time he’d been given, writing last memoirs of his time on the battlefield and gazing out his window at the peaceful Altea below.

That was the hardest-won prize of all.

When the day finally came, his loved ones were by his side. Princess Elise and Merric had visited earlier in the afternoon, and now Sir Cain, Queen Caeda and Prince Marth formed a barrier around the bed. Caeda’s arm was wrapped firmly around Marth, whose bright eyes shone with brimming tears.

“It is alright, my king.” Weakly, Jagen smiled up at the King of Altea, a man of less than twenty-five years who carried the world on his shoulders. “Do not add my burdens to your own. I am in no pain.”

Marth’s face didn’t soften, but he nodded, doing his best to force a smile. “Forgive me, Jagen.”

“We’re going to miss you, you know.” Cain was running a hand through his own hair, his lips twisted into a grimace. “You taught me everything I know about being a knight.”

Jagen smiled. He remembered rides on the plains with a Cain barely savvy enough to put on his armor. He remembered the terror he felt seeing him ride off to war alongside King Cornelius, and the mix of relief and despair that followed when Cain returned alone, bloodied and beaten, news of Gra’s betrayal pouring from his lips. The War Of Shadows had not been Jagen’s first conflict, but for each of his comrades, war was a new experience, one that twisted hearts and minds and forced innocent hands to draw blood.

Jagen’s eyes drifted to Marth again, trying to remember the prince’s face from before the war, when the boy still had his parents and his innocence. King Cornelius had always feared his son was too soft, too kind for a world threatened by the Dolhr Empire. Jagen, though it was perhaps not his place, disagreed, and he had struggled to protect Marth’s kindly nature, even through the times that threatened to harden the prince forever.

“Jagen?” Caeda’s voice broke through the memories. She laid a warm hand on his, her countenance shining as usual. “We all love you, you know.”

But Marth had not been broken under the ravages of war, like so many men Jagen had known, many of whom would be called “stronger” than the Altean prince. Marth’s greatest strength, as Jagen knew, was in his empathy. In his struggles against darkness, Marth always sought to prevent suffering and bloodshed, reaching out to allies and enemies alike to form a coalition that could stand against even the unstoppable Medeus.

Now, though, the savior of humanity itself looked weary and worn. He had given much of himself for the sake of those around him, and it pained Jagen greatly to know that time was about to pull them apart, and there was nothing the king could do about it. 

“Thank you, Caeda, Cain. King Marth?”

“Yes, Jagen?”

He had decided. If these were his final moments, he would assure Marth understood his devotion.

“I have served Altea for nearly all of my life, my liege. I have fought under many commands and counseled many warriors, but I did not know true pride until we sailed for Talys those many years ago. Your whole life had been upended and your home stolen from you, but you told me that you would return and free Altea.” Jagen chuckled. “Perhaps I should have thought those words were simply wishes from a young boy mired in despair, but even then, I knew, somehow. I knew that you would be the one to carry light into this terrible, shadowy world. I must thank you dearly for allowing this foolish old man to stand by your side and help to shoulder your burdens.”

Marth brought a trembling hand down to rest on Jagen’s shoulder, tears lightly beginning to drip onto the bed. “It was my pleasure, Jagen. Thank you for always standing with me.”

As the figures around him grew blurry and dim, and a strange heaviness seemed to fall upon his eyelids, the former Knight Captain of Altea made his final vow.

“I go now to see your mother and father, King Marth. I will tell them firsthand what a wonderful man you have become.”

Jagen had always expected Death to find him in battle, but it had not. When it finally came for him, it was in a cozy bedroom, surrounded by his loved ones, and with peace reigning over the country he loved. When he finally went, he went willingly.

**Author's Note:**

> who's out there getting sad writing fics about the old guy from shadow dragon???
> 
> it's me, i'm that fool


End file.
